


Villains Don’t Pet Cats In Armchairs Anymore

by intothemidnightblue



Series: Ficlets [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ficlet, Heavy Drinking, M/M, One Shot, Property Damage, fun stuff like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 03:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15677430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothemidnightblue/pseuds/intothemidnightblue
Summary: The lights flickered. He never seemed to have enough cash to get them fixed.





	Villains Don’t Pet Cats In Armchairs Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> warning ahead of time that it's not as polished as my other stuff. I have other Gavin/RK900 stuff that is a better display of my writing.  
> Gave Connor the same fascination with his upgraded counterpart as in C&C, therefore he also named this version of RK900, Conlan. Different bois though. This has nothing to do with C&C.

The lights flickered. He never seemed to have enough cash to get them fixed.

He sat on the floor, resting his back on the couch, bottle of something nice next to him. Music was playing in the background. It was something incredibly dissonant to the mood he was in, but it helped to drown out the feeling of just how much he hated what he had become.

There was a knock at the door, but he ignored it. The music changed to something more relevant, so Gavin closed his eyes and just let it play, ignoring the steady knocking breaking through his malaise. Eventually, the knocking stopped. Gavin drank as he listened to the music shuffle.

He pulled out his phone, writing a few lines of something dumb, hoping they resonated nicely if he died of alcohol poisoning right then. He clicked it off and pulled himself off the floor. He needs to do the dishes. He doesn’t want to. Instead, he flopped into the recliner and switched on his tv, letting the next episode in the queue play as the music quieted.

In the space between the switching media, before the video could buffer, he heard footfalls. He lowered the volume of his devices, grabbing for his gun as he got up. Something was in his garage.

 

Any previous haze faded as Gavin listened for sounds while he slowly approached the door.

“Fucking animal better not be messing up the paint,” Gavin mumbled low. There was enough stuff in there for a creature to do some real damage if it started climbing. If it was whoever was knocking previously, well then that added a whole slew of problems beyond simple paw prints and broken items.

There was a loud _crack_ as the door to the garage swung open. Gavin, luckily, was too torn over shooting a round in his house towards the recently painted garage to act quickly, giving him time to process the person now in his home.

“Put the gun down, Detective,” the android said. It looked like Connor, but if Connor changed many minute details of himself drastically.

“You’re the Android from the rally,” Gavin noted.

“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” it said.

“I can’t afford to pay for that,” Gavin said plainly. His mind spun with expenses and extra shifts and if thirty-seven is too old to move back in with your parents. The force of the android had broken through the lock, which was one expense he had splurged on for the house. It had also ripped a hefty chunk of wood from the door and wall. Those he could manage, but the locks were way over budget.

The android blinked in confusion, most likely also accessing all records noting just how much Gavin can’t pay for shit.

“Oh,” it said after a while. It’s LED was yellow.

“Get out,” Gavin said evenly. He didn’t care what this bitchass hunk of plastic was here for. His old hatred for androids and their ineptitudes boiled back up to the surface. He didn’t want to fight. He was honestly probably too drunk to fight at the moment, the only thing keeping him from falling being the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“I have arranged rush order and payment for the damage. I came because... uh,” the robot faltered, shaking its head as it blinked.

“Listen, I know we had some kind of moment at the rally, you saving my ass and all from those counter-protesters, but I’m not the guy to go to for deviant help. Try busting through Lieutenant Anderson’s door. I heard he’s buds with your leader. Thanks for paying for my door but the better option might have been to not break it in the first place,” Gavin fumed. The android took a slight step closer, Gavin steadying the gun he was still pointing.

“I’m not a deviant,” it said.

“Well, why the fuck are you here?” Gavin glared.

“I was assigned to assist you on cases. I was told I would probably find you here, Hank made it sound like you were... not great right now. I was- I didn’t know in what state I would find you,” the android sounded like it was learning to speak for the first time. It staggered through its dialogue, though it never really stuttered like a human.

“I left early for a reason, and it certainly wasn’t so you could chase me home,” Gavin finally put down his gun.

“I truly am sorry about it. I believe Connor would say I was worried about you,” it said, lilting his voice like the mention of Connor was unpleasant.

“Close my garage door on the way out, _please_ ,” Gavin said, though it clearly wasn’t a polite request. The android did his best to close the door, propping the broom that was leaning in the corner of the room, against the door in such a way as to utilize the door stopper to hold it closed. It didn’t leave though.

Gavin gave the longest, most exasperated sigh he could muster. There was no way he was going to call the cops. He was the cops. No one would leave him alone about it if he did.

“Why are you still here,” he said, swinging to leave farther down the hall back to his living room. The android walked to keep within earshot.

“I want you to know I really am sorry,” it said.

“Who are you, anyway? They give you a name?” Gavin asked.

“Connor calls me Conlan, Hank calls me Nine Hundred.”

“How come you’re already buddies with my least favourite people on the force?” Gavin asked.

“I waited for you; they pestered me,” Conlan said simply. Gavin grabbed the nearest near-empty can of beer and drank the rest, plodding around the room as he was scouring for the other one he knew he had left somewhere. Conlan mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” Gavin called, still busy searching for the other beer. He gave a sound of triumph as he found it on the table near the window.

“Damn bitch, you live like this?” Conlan spoke up. Gavin’s attention immediately shot to Conlan.

“What the fuck did you just say you three-cent hunk of recycled garbage?” His voice rose in volume and pitch.

“I said, damn bitch, you live like this?” Conlan said, louder and with better inflection, which helped Gavin connect where he had gotten that saying from.

“Hank is the absolute worst at relating to anyone younger than him, please never again listen to a goddamn thing he says,” Gavin’s ordered strongly.

“Would you like me to help you clean up?” Conlan asked. Gavin frowned.

“Do what you want, just stay in my sight,” Gavin relented.

“Will do,” Conlan said shortly, quickly busting himself in the kitchen. Gavin sat where he could see into the archway at Conlan, quickly drinking through his beer, trying to calm his nerves back into something quiet enough for him to sleep.

 

It was a while before Conlan came back to bother him. A normal human would have left a long time ago, but Conlan was persistent in making himself available.

“Your dishes are organized in how I could surmise their usual placement. I did have to guess where your mugs were supposed to go,” Conlan reported, “I also cleaned the counters and fixed the broken chair. I do apologize though, that I did leave the kitchen when I decided to wash the jacket that was resting on the chair, which led me to start a load of laundry for you.” Gavin cracked open one eye, dropping onto the table the wine bottle he had grabbed earlier, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

“You’ve well completed your indentured servitude after busting my door,” Gavin said, voice heavy with sleep. His stomach was heavily displeased with his steady drinking, and he worried about how to get up without retching. “You can leave now,” Gavin said, as he braced himself for getting up. Somehow, he managed to rise without ruining the carpet. When he looked back up, Conlan was still standing there, LED spinning.

“Thank you,” Gavin added, “but you didn’t need to do any of that.” Conlan looked at his feet, then back at Gavin.

“I was worried you would hate me,” he said steadily.

“I don’t,” Gavin said softly, though it was less affection, more the rising bile.

“Hank was pretty clear on your stance, plus- I knew- you were originally there as the defence for the counter-protesters. I read your- everything. I know you hate us. I know your temper, I know that Hank and Connor were only being friendly to warn me about you,” Conlan started oddly breaking up his words again. Gavin still had a hard time equating it to normal human stuttering.

“I hate what you guys stand for. I hate CyberLife. I don’t actually hate who you guys are, anymore,” Gavin explained slowly, as he carefully walked to his room. Conlan was next to him faster than he could process, guiding him with easy nudges when Gavin would start tipping.

“You saw why I did,” Gavin said a bit too loudly, quieting himself quickly, “I protected her- it- her.” His “s” sounds were turning more into “sh” sounds.

“I know,” Conlan said.

“I can’t-“ Gavin hiccuped, “be totally evil if I save people. But that’s something... a villain would say.” He visibly saddened.

“You’re fine,” Conlan said as he led Gavin to the bathroom. He let the man stumble in there on his own. Conlan stood there for a second, unsure of if he really should leave. Actually, he knew he should have left a long time ago, but his memories still mixed with his limited knowledge if Connor’s past, and he seemed to have already developed an attachment to Gavin due to Conlan’s piling misjudgments. Conlan ran through scenarios of what could happen when Gavin opens the door again. Most of them involved Gavin not really caring, so it seemed safe to stay and make sure Gavin didn’t die on the way to bed. Conlan made sure to step out of the way of Gavin’s eventual beeline for the bed.

He waited there, listening to Gavin get as ready as he could for sleep as quickly as an absolutely wasted person could handle. The man definitely threw up as soon as he was through to the toilet, so hopefully, that means he cleared the worst of it out for sleep. Just in case, Conlan moved a bucket he had seen previously, to a location closer to Gavin’s bed.

After about five minutes, all sound had stopped in the bathroom. Conlan waited for a bit longer, but it was pretty clear Gavin wasn’t coming out.

Conlan tried the lock, thanking the human God that the door wasn’t locked. He opened it slowly, glancing around the room. Gavin was leaning against the cupboards on the floor, fast asleep. Conlan’s LED spun as he figured the best course of action. Gavin seemed to be pretty deeply invested into his sleep, but there was something clearly ringing in Conlan’s head telling him he should not bridal carry Gavin over and into the covers of his bed and tuck him in. That would not be a good idea. Too bad Conlan was already in the process of doing just that.

He pulled the blankets over Gavin, understanding the chill in the room would cause discomfort that would hinder a restful sleep pattern. Gavin barely moved. It wasn’t so much “cute” as it was incredibly awkward, as he was pretty much a rag doll in manoeuvrability. As soon as the blankets were over him, though, he curled into a comfortable position. Conlan’s LED flashed yellow as he moved to leave.

 

 

“ _Detective Reed would sooner throw you into a trash compactor at the soonest opportunity than let you help him in the slightest_ ,” Hank had said.

“ _He has thrown his coffee at me numerous times. I was only lucky that it was lukewarm by the time he decided to use it as a weapon_ ,” Connor had added.

Conlan had been rather terrified to encounter Gavin for the first time, though still when he hadn’t gotten a response at the door, his internals still seized. He blamed it on Connor’s memories still poisoning him as he worked through his cohabiter’s emotions. Conlan didn’t have those yet. He hadn’t yet decided if he really wanted to have emotions. They seemed altogether unhealthful and, at this point, actively hurtful.

 

Conlan looked back at the house he had left, and updated the order he had previously called for to include some basic lawn maintenance.

 

Conlan didn’t have the emotion to figure out if he was feeling guilty, or if he was worried of the retribution.

He turned away.

 

_“I saw him lunge at that android, I told you he was unstable.”_

_“Luckily you were there, Conlan.”_

**Author's Note:**

> If you want something more long-form, check out [Chemicals & Code](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15424041). I update it towards the beginning of each week, sometimes sooner depending on the last chapter's amount of comments.
> 
> _____________________________________________  
> comments and kudos heal my tired soul  
> find me on tumblr @ [lockewoodandco](http://www.lockewoodandco.tumblr.com)  
> twit @ [ jaceisblue](http://twitter.com/jaceisblue)


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